Another Cinderella Story: Cynderella
by GummyBearVanii
Summary: The story of Cynderella. A young, sixteen year old french girl in a reverse and mix-up of the original fairy tale. This probably isn't a kids story. From teenagers to young adults preferable. It does include some violence, blood, and gore. Think of it more as The Hunger Games. Not too much, yet that's what it's all about.


The story of Cynderella. A young, sixteen year old french girl in a reverse and mix-up of the original fairy tale. This probably isn't a kids story. From teenagers to young adults preferable. It does include some violence, blood, and gore. Think of it more as The Hunger Games. Not too much, yet that's what it's all about.

* * *

Knelt on the floor with an old duster, Cynderella dusted off all the family's decorations kept in the living room part of their house. They weren't her birth family, more like the family she **never** wanted. A bossy, selfish, impolite, conceited step-mother who married her birth father because of his money and looks. How she got away with it; Using some sort of charm and politeness around him, that never showed when Cynderella was around. Then came her two step-sisters, around the same age as Cynderella, who followed in their mother's footsteps. Two packages of complete sour and selfishness. And Cynderella had to keep up with all three of them ever since her mother died, her father married the evil lady, and then he went off to war. Which left her with the three nightmares. Every day, she was ordered to clean the house until the chandelier sparkled and furniture glimmered. Worn out from bone to bone, she kept dusting, scrubbing, polishing, and washing. Who exactly was this poor, young lady? Cynderella Kingston, a skinny, weak, pale-skinned sixteen year old girl with long, dirty, brown hair and emerald green eyes. Though there was a glimmer in her eyes that hinted she was a fighter, a brave and disciplined one to find out if her father was still alive. If he was, she would be able to ditch that horrible family and fight with him in the fields. If he wasn't, the step-mother would get all the money, including the property owned by Cynderella's father, and would order someone to kill the daughter that was standing in her way. So that was the current life of this teenager in the worn out, filthy, light-blue gown and white apron.

"Hurry up and clean faster! You have a much faster record than this, Cynder!" The Irish step-mother, Helena, was sitting at the vanity located in her room, glancing up at the wooden-framed clock that hung on the wall, checking how much her slave was taking. She was too busy doing her hair in a horrible bun, trying to get ready for a meeting she had with her lady friends, to peek into the living room and notice that Cynderella was too deep in thoughts to care about a word she said. Unfortunately, the two brats of step-sisters, Brickey and Sephoire, rushed into the room and stood behind the girl lost in thoughts about her father and objective. She soon realized the two shadows towering over her and quickly turned around. There stood her Irish step-sisters. Brickey had bright red-orange, flaming hair and light blue eyes. She was very thin and fit. On the other hand, Sephoire, with similar flaming red-orange hair, was a bit more out of shape. They were both very ugly, or at least that was Cynderella's opinion of the two monsters.

"Mother, Cynder's off thinking about something again!" Brickey called out, giving Cynder a push, forcing her to continue her work. Cynderella only hesitated and continued to do the dusting, the work only adding more filthiest to her clothes. If she didn't do her chores, she'd be whipped by one of the daughters or Helena herself, adding more marks to her back. She was more of the family slave, than a family member.

After finishing her dusting around the whole house, she realized it was the last chore on the list for the day. She wiped her forehead, with the back of her hand, which was moist of sweat from the work she had done earlier that day outside in the hot, morning sun. It was now a cool afternoon, and the only thing keeping her warm was her gown. She walked to Helena's room and knocked on the door. "I'm done with today." Cynderella stood there and listened for any sign that she was opening the door, then she heard it. The stifled walk of a lady in high heels. The door swung open and Helena stood there, ready for her Monday afternoon meetings. Her meetings only discussed about the annual ball held at the royal castle, in honor to find the prince someone to marry. And since Helena only wanted the money and power, she wanted one of her daughters marrying him.

"You're finished? Well then. Off to your room. Clean up, you're a disgust," Helena said, walking out of the room and into the hall. Cynderella only did as ordered and went to her room. As she sat on her bed, she was able to hear the noises outside her door. The three witches were leaving to the meeting, meaning Cynderella was left alone again that Monday night to think about her plans that were to be carried out soon.

Cleaned up and ready for bed in her night gown, she walked over to her bed and knelt down. Reaching deep under her bed, she pulled out a golden chest with a lock that had a silver "C" on it. Around her neck, she kept a necklace with a key that had the matching letter. She pulled the necklace off and opened the chest with the key, slowly lifting up the lid and taking a look down at a light-blue ball gown. Under the gown, there were pieces of armor, made to fit her shape exactly. The armor pieces could be hidden under her gown, making her unnoticed in the occasion she needed to be. After revising and making sure everything was set, she let out a sigh and whispered, "I won't let you down, father." Closing and locking up the chest, she slid it back deep under her bed and placed her necklace in her jewelry box. She then slid into her bed and pulled the covers up to her chest, turning off the light from the nightstand. Letting out a soft yawn, she began to drift off into sleep. The land where she could only find freedom.


End file.
